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Wednesday 29.5.02 | One terror which I tacitly battle with on here is that of being boring. I specifically try not to put up which sort of bogroll I use to wipe my nether regions or my latest trip to B&Q or whateverthefuck, simply because that isn't the intention of this weblog. Which is why, reading through the last few weeks and months of my dribblings, I have been disappointed and amazed that really, they have for the most part been reasonably tedious, with the odd amusing aside to keep the laughter-lines forming. I always thought that I wouldn't bother writing any more if I thought it was boring (and the acid test of this is if I think what I write is monotonous, as this is a sure-fire way to know that everyone who used to read it slumped over their keyboards long ago) - and I haven't reached that stage just yet. And I do realise I've just had three months of revision and exams, and suddenly nothing much to stimulate my cranial faculties. But then I also acknowledge that there isn't going to be anything more in this area until I go to France in September, so we shall see. On the note of grand tedium, my email seems to have died. This, in a way, is good timing, as I need to change it before Europe (poor Angelfire isn't up to coping with umlauts and accents of any sort) and I might as well get a new one and get used to it before then. But I need to work out a way of recovering all my lost email before that (this, by the way, is not to say that I have SO many friends, but I know it's up shit creek because I keep testing it with my Hotmail account, a test it fails every time. Strangely enough, emails from UCL seem to be getting through. I wonder...) Thursday 30.5.02 The last 24 hours have been anything but tedious. Firstly, there was the face-pack session a la Claire, which involved lying on her bed with some godawful cream smeared all over my face (no smirks please) and two patches of simulator-cucumber over my eyes (not having any, we decided to use the next-best thing...) Apparently I'm meant to be all clean and clear and healthy now. Unfortunately the stuff seems to have had the opposite effect and my skin currently looks like the surface of the moon, but I'm told that's natural. Was dying for someone to ring me whilst having said treatment, just so I could pick up the phone and say something along the lines of 'I mean God, don't you know I'm, like, exfoliating here?' Then, it being Corpus Christi today (yippee! Rapture to the world) I decided to be a good Catholic boy and go to early mass. Which wasn't said in the cosy confines of the senior chaplain's normal practice, but the unbearable semi-happy-clappiness of an American Cisterican beardie Pro-Life Group who are, as I write, marching round London with (I kid you not) a picture of Our Lady of Guadeloupe ('What the fuck?' I hear you ask: I have no answers) trying to convert London to their cause. Note their cause, not our cause. Catholics. Friday 31.5.02 Joy. I have just spent the best part of the morning sifting through every email everyone has sent me during the last week, as my provider has finally decided to vomit them into my inbox. They included some important job-stuff so I'm not pleased as I've probably just missed an opportunity to get more work. Still, hard to be in too foul a mood because I managed to get my revenge on Claire this morning for dragging me out of bed on Sunday night by waking her up early and generally bouncing around on her bed being annoying until she woke up properly. I love being juvenile. Talking of similar things, went to see Shock-headed Peter last night at the Albery; Swyrie had seen it before and I've done a little of the literature of that genre, dahlings, so I guess we both knew what was coming. Claire soon learned, and we all enjoyed it - unsettling, absurd, unreasonable, random and frankly disgusting that it was by degrees. But yes, very worth going to. Not sure I'd see it again, but very glad I saw it. And on a parting note, I don't care how sanctimoniously toffee-nosed I sounded yesterday - I'm Catholic (allegedly) and everyone knows it's our role in the grand scheme of things to look down our bogey-filled noses at everyone else even though we have no cause to. And even if I wasn't, I can't bear happy-crappiness in any form anyway, so rant was necessary, if perhaps slightly unjustified. Sunday 2.6.02 The sun is out, the sky is flawless, the weather is beautiful in London, which is obviously why Mark, merci quand meme, is about to go and jump on a train to the frozen North until Wednesday morning. Having said this, departure has its advantages - it gets me away from the jubifuckinglee, gets me out of London, gets me a holiday, gets me away from the world cup (fat chance, I suppose - and actually, now I think about it, Leeds is closer to Japan/Korea than London - shit) and will be a generally nice change of scenery. This has the added effect that I will probably not be writing anything on here during my petit voyage. Until then.
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